Find Your Way Back
by YankeeFan87
Summary: Pre-series. Dean is in Palo Alto checking up on Sam when Jess accidentally hits him with her car in the middle of a torrential rain storm. Much Hurt/Sick Dean and Caring!Sam.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Don't own the Winchesters or anything Supernatural-related.

**A/N:** Another fanfic that I wrote for the hurt Dean comment-fic meme over on hoodie time's LJ. The prompt was for Jess to hit Dean with her car while he was in Palo Alto checking up on Sam. No spoilers, since it's pre-series, but it does go a little off-canon since in this scenario Jess meets Dean before the pilot. Hurt!Dean and Caring Sam and Jess. Title taken from the Jefferson Starship song of the same name.

Much hurt/comfort and brotherly love, because who doesn't love that?

* * *

Rain was pounding down hard on her windshield as Jess carefully maneuvered her jeep down College Street. She had planned to surprise Sam with a home-cooked meal and refused to let the crappy weather deter her. Sam would be at class for the next few hours, so it had been the perfect opportunity for her to go food shopping, torrential rain storm notwithstanding. After nearly an hour spent picking out fresh vegetables, cheeses, and meats, Jess was finally on her way home, taking her time to avoid hydroplaning on the flooded streets.

Even the busiest streets were deserted – no one else felt the need to test Mother Nature, and for that Jess was thankful. The fewer cars on the roads, the less of a chance she had of getting into an accident. She slowed down slightly, preparing to make a left onto Elm Street, a few blocks from the apartment she shared with Sam, her boyfriend of 2 years. Seeing no other cars in her path, Jess turned the wheel and pressed her foot down slightly on the gas.

The man seemed to come out of nowhere. One second the streets were clear, and in the next second Jess saw him standing directly in her car's path. Jess immediately stepped on the brakes as soon as she caught sight of him, but the pouring rain and flooded streets prevented her tires from gaining sufficient traction and she felt the car start to spin. She made eye-contact with the stranger seconds before she felt the car collide with him, saw the fear in his eyes when they both realized the car wouldn't be stopping in time.

It could have been worse, Jess knew. She hadn't been going that fast to begin with, and the pressure she had applied to the brakes _had_ caused the car to slow down a bit. But man versus car was never good, and she jumped out of the jeep as soon as it came to a stop, running to the man who now lay on his side, fear causing her heart to pound.

His eyes were closed and he was unmoving and in that instant Jess was terrified that she had killed him. But as she approached, she saw his chest was moving up and down and she released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Jess knelt down next to the stranger to see where he was injured, immediately noticing the gash on his forehead that was bleeding steadily, blood mixing with rain water to drip down his face in reddish-pink rivulets.

He was very handsome, she noted, then scolded herself for thinking about that while he lay bleeding on the street. She looked around, intending to call for help, but the streets were still utterly deserted, and she felt herself panicking again. Thinking that she should go and grab her cell phone, Jess was about to stand when she heard a soft moan coming from the man at her side.

"Shhhh," she whispered as he moaned again, and she reached out and put her hand on his arm as he started to shift. He opened bleary eyes and blinked, trying to clear the rain out of his eyes. He reached a hand up to feel the gash on his head, still seemingly unaware of the situation. "Hey," Jess said softly, smiling down at him.

"Are you my guardian angel?" he asked sweetly, and she was taken aback by the disarmingly handsome smile he flashed her.

She chuckled a little at that and the suggestive look he was giving her. "Are you _seriously_ flirting with me right now? While you're bleeding in the street in the middle of the pouring rain?" She was comforted a little though, hoping that this meant he wasn't as hurt as he seemed. But the tight wince he gave and the barely discernible cry of pain he let out when he tried to move told a different story.

"Can't," he began. "Can't blame a guy for trying. What happened anyway?"

"I hit you with my car," she said, pointing to the jeep and only then seeing the dent that had formed from its impact with the stranger. "I'm so sorry. I didn't see you and I tried to stop but the car just spun out of control." She was babbling now, but she was so overcome with guilt that she couldn't stop. He reached out a hand, stilling her and causing her to wait a beat.

"Don't worry about it, Sweetheart. My fault, I should'a looked both ways before crossing the street. That's what parents always say, isn't it? Not your fault."

Jess nodded, thinking it ridiculous that he was the one trying to comfort her. She reached up and wiped away the tears that had formed in her eyes without her even realizing it. "Well, you're still hurt. I need to get you to the hospital." She jumped back as he tried to sit up, though he didn't get far before gasping and curling in on himself.

"No hospital. I'll be okay. Just…help me up?"

She gave him a disbelieving look, couldn't imagine that he was even thinking about walking this off. "Are you serious? You probably have a concussion, not to mention internal bleeding. I'm not going to just leave you."

Realizing she wasn't going to let this go, he tried a different tactic. "I'm Dean," he said, holding out his hand for her to shake.

"Jess," she replied, still looking at him warily, making sure he made no further attempts to sit up.

"Okay, Jess. Thanks for helping me, but seriously, I'm fine. If you could just give me a ride, I'm staying over at the Lonely Traveler's Motel a few blocks away. I'll be fine. Just a little headache."

Jess nodded, only because she knew he wasn't going to willingly go to the hospital. But that didn't mean she was going to leave him at some crappy roach motel to die in his sleep. "Okay, sure. Come on, Dean, I'll give you a ride."

_That was too easy_, he thought, as he grasped her hand and tried to pull himself up. The pain in his head was sharp and intense, but he blinked through it. The pain in his ribs, though, was another story. He hoped Jess hadn't heard the gasp of pain he let out as he felt his ribs shift upon standing. _Fuck fuck fuck_. A few of the cracked ribs that he'd gotten from the last hunt with his dad had surely broken after his little impact with the jeep, and it took all he had to straighten up and limp over to Jess's car.

"Do you need help?" She had followed him to the passenger side and was offering her shoulder for him to lean on.

"I'm good," he choked out, hoping she believed it. Realizing she was looking at him with a wary expression on her face, he once again flashed her his charming smile and climbed in. "Thanks again, Jess. I really appreciate it." She nodded once, then rounded the car to get in.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Thanks to those of you who reviewed! I never before realized how rewarding they were, so let me know what you think :) Not saying I won't continue with the story if you don't review, but it'll definitely motivate me to write faster. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

They'd barely driven a block when Jess heard Dean shifting around in the seat next to her. She glanced over at him, noting that he looked decidedly paler than he had a minute ago.

"Dean? Are you okay?"

Grunting, he shook his head slightly. "Can you pull over?" he gasped.

When the car stopped, Dean immediately wrenched open the door, vomiting helplessly into the street, clutching his ribs as they shifted from the effort. _Definitely a concussion_, he thought to himself as he heaved again. _Dammit_. He heard Jess shifting in her seat.

"Dean? Do you need help?"

He shook his head, knowing that she couldn't see him, but he couldn't spare the breath it would take to reassure her. He gagged and spit out more bile, then waited for a minute until he was sure his stomach had finished emptying itself. He pulled himself back inside the car and looked over at Jess's concerned face.

"Oh Dean," she sighed. "I know you don't want to go, but I really think you need a hospital."

"No, I'm fine. Just a little carsick," he responded, knowing it was a completely ridiculous lie. "Can we just go?" he pleaded, hoping she would sympathize with the utterly miserable expression he knew was plastered on his face. Though she didn't respond, Jess turned the key in the ignition and pulled back out onto the street. Dean closed his eyes, willing the world to stop spinning.

When he felt a little steadier, Dean opened his eyes, noticing for the first time the grocery bags which filled the backseat of Jess's car. "You making a feast?" he asked, smiling a little.

She nodded, smiling herself. "Surprising my boyfriend for our anniversary."

_Of course_, Dean thought to himself. _All the good ones have boyfriends. _"Lucky guy," he responded, closing his eyes again as the pounding rain made his head hurt.

"Well at least _I _think so," she smiled. "Just a few more minutes," she said then, her voice laced with sympathy and concern as she once again checked on her passenger. "Hang on, Dean."

"Okay," he mumbled, more to himself than to Jess. "I'm just going to close my eyes for a sec."

Dean awoke as the car slowed to a stop, surprised when he recognized the voice of Bon Scott drifting through the radio Jess had turned down low, no doubt in deference to her injured passenger. "You've got good taste," he told her. Even though his eyes were still closed, he could feel her smiling back at him.

"Okay, Dean. Here we are."

He finally opened his eyes, looking up at the building and then over at Jess, a look of betrayal on his face. "This isn't the hotel. Jess?" He prodded, waiting for an explanation.

"I'm not taking you to the hotel Dean. We both know you're hurt, and since you refuse to go to a hospital, you're staying here with me. No arguments."

Any other time, Dean would have steadfastly refused to impose, woulda gotten out and walked the two or three miles to his hotel room, busted ribs and concussion be damned. But he knew that, at least physically, such a thing was impossible. He'd collapse and drown in a gutter before he even made it half a mile. And what would his dad think of him then?

"But what about your boyfriend?" Dean asked instead, hoping this would somehow cause Jess to rethink her plan, to drive him to his desired destination.

"Who, Sam? He's even more of a bleeding heart than I am. Trust me, he'll be fine with this."

_Sam? _Dean thought, looking at her for a second. _Couldn't be. This chick's way too far out of his league_...He felt his resolve faltering, knew his body would betray him if he didn't lie down soon. Dean looked at Jess, giving her a slight nod before opening his door and stepping down onto the wet ground. "Okay," he told her. "But just for a few hours."

* * *

Dean knew the second he walked into the apartment that this was Sammy's apartment. _His _Sammy's apartment. If Sam's trademark hoodies and the large collection of advanced reading materials weren't enough to convince him, the picture of John and Mary Winchester smiling back at him from a side table had Dean 100% sure that this was his little brother's apartment. And Jess, the gorgeous girl who had hit him with her car, was Sam's girlfriend.

_Shit_ he muttered to himself, but he knew there was no getting out of the situation now. The truth was, he wanted to see his brother, had wanted to see him for two years now. _But not like this_, he thought. Not when he was broken and weak and feeling downright shitty. He heard Jess come up behind him, placing a gentle hand on his elbow, prompting him to move forward.

The apartment was tastefully decorated and Jess led Dean through the front hallway, sitting him down on a couch in their den. "Just wait here one second, okay? I'm gonna straighten out the guest room."

Dean nodded, leaning back and closing his eyes, welcoming the feel of soft cushions against his battered body. His head wound had stopped bleeding at some point on the car ride over and he felt sticky and hot, could barely convince himself to care that he was getting his brother's couch wet. Instead, he found himself chuckling at the irony. _Who'd a thought? _He pulled in a shuddering breath, cursing lightly when he felt the pull in his ribs. _Not good. _When Jess returned she carried with her some towels and a fresh set of clothes. _Sam's clothes_, Dean thought.

"I don't know if you're up to showering, but you should get out of those wet clothes. Sam's a little taller than you, but until I can get your clothes washed and dried, these should do." She led Dean down to the bathroom, placing the clothing down on the closed toilet seat. "I'll be right out there," she said, pointing to the kitchen. "Just holler when you're done."

Dean thanked her, happy when Jess closed the door behind her and he could let out the pained gasp he had been holding in since he'd gotten out of the car. He peeled away the wet clothing, wincing as he once again felt a shift in his ribs. Looking down at his chest, he saw the telltale bruises which belied the damage inside. _Not good_, he thought again. A concussion he could deal with, but broken ribs could be trouble, especially if they punctured a lung. Not wanting to worry Jess, he resolved to keep that injury a secret until Sam got home. _Home, _Dean thought, smiling again as he thought of his little brother and the fact that Sam had found a place to call home. _Kid finally got what he wanted_.

He turned on the hot water even though he doubted he could stand long enough to shower. But he felt too hot and too sticky and so he climbed under the steady stream, rinsing off as quickly as he could before stepping out and toweling dry. The cut on his head stung as he examined it, but he was happy to realize that it wouldn't need stitches. Sufficiently dry, Dean gingerly pulled on Sam's clothes, rolling up the sleeves and the bottoms of the sweats so they didn't drag, and stepped out of the bathroom.

* * *

Jess looked up as Dean shuffled into the kitchen, putting down the box of pasta she'd been holding.

"Smells delicious, Jess," Dean said as he sat down in a chair Jess had pulled out for him.

"Chicken Cacciatore," she responded. "Sam's favorite. There'll be plenty for you too, if you're feeling up to it later."

Dean nodded his thanks, resting his head on his arm as the fatigue and pain seemed to catch up with him. He lifted his head again when he felt Jess nudge his arm. She carried with her a large first-aid kit that rivaled the Winchesters' own. "Sam likes to be prepared," she answered, seeing Dean's look of surprise.

_Atta boy_, Dean thought.

"Okay, let me look at your head," she said, motioning to the cut that was still causing his head to throb. Dean complied, welcoming the mother-hen routine because _when was the last time he'd let someone just take care of him?_ It felt good, he realized, and he closed his eyes as she prodded the skin around the cut.

"Not too bad," she decided eventually, gently dabbing on some antibiotic ointment. Dean winced as she pulled the sides together and placed a few butterfly bandages across the cut to hold them together. "You okay?" she asked when she saw the expression of pain etched across his face.

"Just stings a little," he found himself admitting. "But it's better now," he said, turning his face up to look at hers and smiling. "Thank you."

Jess smiled back. "Okay, mister, is that it for injuries? Or is there something else more life-threatening I need to worry about?"

Feeling awful for lying to her, Dean nodded his assent. "That's it. Thanks," he said again.

"Alright you look like you're about to fall asleep at the table. Can't have you in my way while I'm cooking, can I?" she said, laughing. "C'mon, I'll show you to the guest room."

Dean got up and followed after her, putting a hand to his side to still the shifting of his ribs.

Jess had pulled back the covers to the bed when Dean made it into the room and he gratefully climbed in. She held out a few aspirin and a glass of water and Dean eagerly swallowed them down, anything to get rid of the constant ache he felt in his side and the dull pounding of his head. "You just rest for now," she said softly. "I'll be in to check on you later. I know the concussion routine," she softly walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Dean shifted in the bed, concern over his busted ribs disappearing; instead it was replaced by the notion that he would finally get to talk to his brother. _It's been too long, Sammy_, he thought as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

TBC...Sam's in the next chapter! Please review! It'll make my day :)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Thank you for the reviews! They made me so so happy. And here is your reward. I'm sitting here with a cup of Dunkin' coffee at 12 AM in the morning so that I can finish this update. Keep the reviews coming and I will keep the updates coming :)**

**

* * *

**Jess was busy finishing up in the kitchen when she heard the door open. It had been a little over an hour since she'd seen Dean to bed and the last time she checked he had been sleeping somewhat comfortably, though she did notice that his face was still etched with lines of pain.

"Jess?" Sam stepped into the hallway, dripping wet. He slammed the door behind him and was about to yell out again when he heard Jess padding down the hall.

"Shhh, I'm right here Sam. Just finishing up dinner," she said, taking him by the hand and leading him to the same chair Dean had been sitting in just an hour earlier.

The smell seemed to hit Sam the second he reached the kitchen and he looked up at Jess with a huge smile on his face. "That smells fantastic. Happy anniversary." He reached up to kiss her.

"You too, Sweetie," she said, returning his kiss. "But before we eat, I have to tell you something. You're never going to believe what happened to me today."

Sam sat in stunned silence after Jess had completed her story. "Let me get this straight," he started. "You _hit_ the guy with your _car _and then brought him _here_? Why didn't you take him to the hospital, again?"

"He refused. I've never seen anyone so insistent. He had blood dripping down his face and told me to just drop him off at a motel and leave him there. He acted as if getting hit by a car was an everyday occurrence."

Sam mulled over Jess's story. "Why would anyone refuse to go to the hospital after being hit by a car?" he mused, more to himself than to Jess. It was then that he allowed his eyes to roam the room, stopping on the aged leather jacket that was hanging in the corner and the biker boots that sat below it. He did a double take, not quite believing what he saw. He would know that jacket anywhere. "Shit," he muttered. "Dean."

"What did you say?" Jess asked him, "I never told you what his name was."

And that was all the confirmation that Sam needed. "Jess," he began, "this guy, was he about 6 foot one with dirty blond hair?" She just nodded in reply, bewildered by the fact that Sam seemed to know who he was. "Okay," he said slowly, "One more thing. Did he hit on you?" Sam took the blush that crept into Jess's cheeks as affirmation.

"You _know_ him?" she asked, still in shock.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah I know him, Jess. Dean's my brother."

Jess sat in stunned silence. She'd only heard Sam talk about his brother on one or two occasions, had only seen pictures of the two when they were children. How could the Dean she hit, the Dean who was lying in their guest room, be Sam's brother?

Jess was shaken from her reverie by Sam's voice. "I have to go see him. Jesus, Jess, I haven't talked to him in two _years_." Jess got up, taking Sam's hand in her own.

"He's asleep in the guest room. I should probably be waking him up soon anyway. I'm pretty sure he has a concussion."

Sam seemed to remember then that this wasn't a social call. Dean was here because he was hurt. But then that begged the question of why Dean was even in Palo Alto to begin with. And where was John in all this? That would have to wait until later though, when Dean was better and back on his feet.

"A concussion? Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure. He has a gash on his head and a pretty big goose egg around it. And he was sick on the car ride over here."

Sam nodded, taking everything in. "Were there any other injuries?" he asked her, realizing that coming away with just a concussion after getting hit by a car would be pretty damn lucky. And Dean was anything but lucky.

"He promised me that the head wound was his only injury, but I got the feeling he was in more pain than he was letting on. You'll have to ask him later, maybe when I'm not around."

Sam nodded, knowing how pigheaded his brother could be. "Okay then, let's go wake the stubborn idiot."

* * *

Jess insisted on being the one to wake Dean. She had told Sam it was because she didn't want Dean to be confused, but the truth was she had taken a real liking to him and still felt incredibly guilty over the whole car-hitting incident. Sam agreed that it would be best, staying a few feet away as she approached.

Jess gently shook Dean's shoulder, whispering quietly. "Dean," she said, and repeated it when he only stirred but stayed asleep. The second time she called his name, he managed to open his eyes and look up at her, recognition reflecting in his face.

"Hey Jess," he answered, smiling up at her. "You here to join me?"

She laughed softly in reply. "Sorry, buddy. Concussion check. Give me your name, the date, and where we are."

"But you just _said _my name," he pointed out, chuckling and mumbling "ow," when she lightly punched him on the shoulder. "Okay, okay. My name is Dean and it's March 20th." It was then that he noticed Sam standing in the corner. "And we're in your and Sammy's apartment."

"So you _knew_?" Jess asked Dean accusingly.

"Only when we got back to the apartment," he admitted. "It was so _Sam_-like. Hard not to notice. Hey Sammy," Dean said, giving his brother a lopsided grin as he looked over at him.

"Dean," Sam replied, looking away for a brief second. No, those were _not_ tears in his eyes, he had just gone too long without blinking. "It's Sam."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean responded as Sam came over to him. "You'll always be Sammy to me."

"I'm going to go check on the chicken, okay boys?" Jess asked, excusing herself to let the brothers catch up.

* * *

"What are you _doing_ here, Dean?" Sam had pulled up a chair and was now sitting close to his brother who was propped up in a sitting position in the guest bed. Dean hoped Sam didn't notice that he was having to work harder to get a deep breath, the pressure from the broken ribs now hindering his breathing.

"Dad and I worked a job in San Luis Obispo 'bout two weeks ago." He said, taking as deep a breath as he could and continuing. "He headed east a few days ago to help out Caleb on a job and I decided to hang around, see what you were up to."

"Well why didn't you call?" Sam began, but stopped when he realized he already knew the answer.

"I _have_ called Sam. And you've never answered. I guess I didn't want to bother you anymore, just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Sam looked down, feeling ashamed. "I'm really sorry, Dean. I _did_ miss you. I _still_ do. But I always worry when I think about you and Dad. I guess ignoring your calls was my way of moving on."

Dean nodded. He understood why Sam didn't call him, even why Sam didn't answer his calls. But it still hurt to hear it. "Out of sight, out of mind," he whispered. He waited a beat. "Jess is a great girl," Dean said, changing the subject. "_Way_ out of your league." He playfully nudged his brother's knee.

Sam looked up, smiling at that, thankful that his brother had given him an out. "I _knew_ you would say that. Yeah, she_ is_ pretty great," he agreed.

Just then Jess yelled back towards the bedroom. "Boys! Dinner's ready!"

"If you're feeling up to it, I'd really like for you to join me and Jess," Sam said sincerely. "Her chicken cacciatore is to die for."

Dean smiled at Sam's effort at reconciliation. "You head in there, I'll be in in a few minutes."

Once Sam had left the room, Dean slowly and carefully pushed himself off the bed. Steadying himself, he reached for the door and made his way into the kitchen to join Jess and his brother for dinner.

* * *

Sam had been right - Jess was a fantastic cook. The aroma of the food was enough to make Dean's mouth water. Unfortunately, though, the nausea from the concussion was back. That, combined with the nauseating pain from his broken ribs, made sitting at the table a very difficult task. Jess seemed to notice this immediately, putting her hand on top of Dean's and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Sweetie, if you still feel sick, you don't have to eat," she offered him a smile, though her eyes belied the concern she was feeling. "I won't be offended," she reassured him.

Sam looked over at his brother, seeing him for the first time in the bright lights of the kitchen. Dean looked awful - pale and tired, with dark smudges underneath his eyes.

Dean nodded slightly, pushing back his plate a few inches. "I think I'll just sit here for a little," he told her. "We can swap embarrassing Sam stories," he joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

And that's exactly what they did. For the next hour, Jess and Dean shared every Sam story they could think of. Sam sat, tight-lipped and embarrassed, but still immensely enjoying the company of his girlfriend and his brother. He'd never dreamt that he could have the two of them together, and the downright normalcy of the situation was something Sam was cherishing.

Sam was first to notice that Dean's resolve was starting to wane. He nudged Jess slightly (who was currently in the middle of telling a particularly unflattering story), and she turned her attention over to Dean who looked as if he was about to face-plant on the table, his eyes barely open as his head bobbed slightly, dragged down by sheer exhaustion. "I'll clean up dinner," she whispered. "You see if you can get him to bed."

Sam stood up, clearing his throat and leaning down to help Dean stand. Dean startled awake before Sam even had the chance to touch him, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake up. "I'm good," he insisted, looking at the twin looks of concern that Sam and Jess were giving him.

"Come on, man," Sam said, helping his brother stand and start the slow shuffle back to his room.

They were one step away from the bedroom when it happened. In an attempt to further steady his brother, Sam had reached around Dean's back, settling his arm underneath his brother's armpit. The gasp of pain that Dean let out was so sudden and loud that Sam jumped back, terrified at first. Jess had stopped washing the dishes and run over to where Sam and Dean were now huddled on the floor, Dean shaking, his eyes closed and his breath sawing in and out in painful gasps as he tried to calm himself.

"Dean?" Sam asked once he'd had a chance to recover from the initial shock. "Is it your head? Talk to me, man. What's wrong."

_No point denying it now_, Dean realized, bracing himself for the reprimand he was fully expecting both Sam _and_ Jess to give him when they found out the truth. He looked at Sam, shaking his head no in answer to his brother's question. "My ribs," he answered, once again gasping for breath. "I think I broke a few in the accident." He looked at Jess then, wanting to explain why he hadn't told her, seeing the hurt in her face and hating himself for causing that. "I didn't wanna worry you, Jess." He insisted, "And I _really _didn't want to go to the hospital." He shrugged and smiled wryly. To his surprise, Jess didn't seem angry. Instead, a look of understanding flashed across her face. _Maybe Sam's told her more about our childhood than I thought_, Dean realized.

Sam nodded in understanding, but knew he needed to figure out the next move. He knew Dean hated hospitals, but he didn't want to jeopardize his brother's health by giving in to his stubbornness. "Dean," Sam spoke, looking at his brother in the eyes now. "How bad?" He knew his brother wouldn't lie now that his deception had been uncovered.

"Tolerable," he answered him. "Sam, can't I just stay here?" Dean wheedled. And that was it for Sam. He saw the pleading in his brother's eyes and realized that Dean wanted this normalcy, _craved_ it as much, if not more than Sam always had. Dean looked down, ashamed at the emotion he knew his brother was reading in him.

"Dean," Sam started, raising his voice slightly when Dean continued to look down. "Hey, Bro. Look at me. No hospital for now, okay? But then we're going to play by my rules. You don't hide _anything_ from me. You so much as cough wrong and I'm hauling your ass to the hospital. Deal?"

Dean nodded, smiling. "Deal."

* * *

**TBC because I am SO not done with the Dean whumping. Remember, if you review, more shall come...And that was my pathetic attempt at making a Field of Dreams reference. Seriously, though, I love hearing all of your feedback! G'nite all.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. They make writing this story that much more rewarding. Enjoy!

* * *

**

Dean clutched Sam's arm tightly as the two made their way back into the guest room, Jess's hand on his back both steadying and reassuring him. Maybe it was the events of the day catching up with him or the fact that he no longer had to hide his injuries, but Dean felt like the pain was becoming harder and harder to breathe through. Looking over at Sam, Dean knew his brother was studying the careful way he was walking, the tiny sips of air he was taking.

"You okay, Bro?" Sam asked as they approached the bed, concern echoing clearly in his voice.

Dean coughed once, wincing again. "I'll be fine, Sammy. Just need to sleep it off," Dean said, hoping he was right, thinking that the answer sounded hollow even to his ears.

Once at the bed, Jess stepped forward to help Sam lower Dean down. Impulsively, she put her hand to his forehead, checking for any signs of fever, dismayed when she felt the heat coming off of him.

"You're burning up," Jess told Dean, brushing the hair back from his forehead. "Are you feeling okay?"

Dean was honestly surprised by that. He had assumed the hot, sticky feeling was a result of the concussion, the tightness in his chest a side-effect of the busted ribs. "Guess," he broke off coughing, "I guess our little rendezvous in the rain was ill-advised?" he asked lightly, smiling up at her.

Jess just shook her head, leaving the room and coming back with a thermometer. "Open up," she insisted in a no-nonsense voice.

Dean glanced at Sam for help. Sam barked out a short laugh, "You better do as she says, Dean."

"102." Jess read out when the thermometer beeped, and Dean could hear the undertone of fear in her voice.

"Shit," the brothers said simultaneously.

"You never _can _do anything halfway, can you Dean?" Sam accused, though there was no venom behind the question.

Jess had left the room again and she called for Sam to follow her. "Be right back, man," Sam told his brother, patting his leg reassuringly before following his girlfriend out into the kitchen.

Sam was surprised to see that tears had welled up in Jess's eyes. He took a step towards her, wrapping his arms around her and immediately whispering soothing words. He pulled her back to look at him, "Hey, Jess? What's wrong Sweetheart?"

"It's my fault, Sam. Your brother is hurt and sick and it's all my fault."

"_Nothing_ is your fault, Jess. It was an accident. And he wouldn't be in pain _or_ sick now if he'd gone to the hospital like you insisted."

Jess nodded and Sam could tell she was calming down a little.

"And he's got us now, right? We'll make sure he's okay," Sam finished.

Jess smiled at that. "Thanks, Sam. I needed that." She took his hand in hers and the two returned to Dean.

* * *

Sam was amazed by how practiced Jess seemed in her ministrations but even more astonished at how receptive Dean was to them. Dean had never been an easy patient, always insisting that he was fine, begging off all forms of care and comfort. Seeing Dean lean into Jess's gentle touch, welcoming the relief she was trying to offer him, Sam felt a pang of regret. Dean looked so young and Sam felt himself aching for the childhood that Dean had been deprived of.

But even with everything Sam and Jess were doing, Dean's condition seemed to worsen as the night went on. He slept in fits and bursts, awakened frequently by the painful coughs which jolted his ribs and caused his head to pound.

"Shhh," Sam soothed when Dean startled awake, moaning as he curled in on himself in an attempt to ease some of the pain. Sam was second-guessing himself, knowing that Dean should probably be in the hospital. But he couldn't bear to go against Dean's wishes. _If he gets _any _worse_, Sam promised himself, _I'll drag him in myself if I have to_.

"Sam?" Dean whispered hoarsely. "Go to sleep. Be fine. You gotta go to class tomorrow." _There's the stubborn jerk_, Sam thought.

"It's Friday, Dean," Sam explained. "And I wouldn't leave you anyway," he added quietly, realizing that in Dean's mind, since Sam had already left him once before, what was to stop him from doing it again? "You just rest, Dean. I'll be here when you wake up."

Dean managed to sleep for an hour straight, and Sam finally convinced Jess to go to bed. There was no reason for both of them to stay up and he promised to wake her if Dean got worse. "Okay," Jess relented, brushing Dean's hair back once more, satisfied that his fever had gone down a little. "Goodnight," she whispered, kissing Sam as she left.

Sam turned back to see Dean looking at him, eyes mere slits. He seemed to be mumbling something quietly. "Hey," Sam whispered, leaning forward to hear what his brother was saying.

"Sammy," Dean smiled. "I missed you. Hasn't been the same without you."

And if Sam had felt bad before, Dean's admission brought him to a whole new low. How could he not think about what his absence had done to his brother? Knowing there was no changing the past, Sam decided all he could do was promise to change the future. Starting now.

Mirroring Jess's actions from before, Sam reached forward and brushed Dean's sweaty hair back from his face. "I know, man. I missed you too. Sorry I've been such a jerk the past two years. Not anymore, alright? Brothers again."

Dean smiled sadly. "Brothers," he whispered.

"So how's Dad been?" Sam asked when it was clear Dean wasn't going to go back to sleep anytime soon.

"Ornery bastard," Dean responded, coughing into his fist. "Hell-bent on killing evil 24/7." Dean changed his tone then. "He misses you too, Sam. And I know he told you not to come back, but he was just angry. Worried. I know he'd love to see you again, even if he'd never admit it."

Sam nodded, surprised to find himself missing the man. "Maybe," Sam started, his voice starting to break with emotion. "Maybe you guys can come visit me sometime."

"I'd like that," Dean told him, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep once more.

* * *

Sam startled awake an hour or two later, hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was after 3 in the morning. Dean seemed to be the same, no worse, no better. Sam went to grab himself a glass of water, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

He returned to the room to find Dean sitting up, caught in the middle of a particularly strong and painful-looking coughing fit. Sam rushed over, sitting next to Dean and helping him lean forward, offering him his own glass of water when Dean seemed to settle a little.

Dean gratefully drank down a few gulps, thanking Sam as he handed back the glass. He started to fall backwards then and Sam reached out, intending to slow Dean's descent.

Dean felt his broken ribs shift just as Sam grabbed him. He gasped in pain, felt his ribs pressing against his chest, knew it wasn't just the illness that was stealing his breath. "Sam," he gasped out, grasping his side, hoping his brother could read his eyes.

"Dean?" Sam choked out, utterly terrified. And Dean hated that he was the cause of Sam's fear. "Your ribs?"

Dean just nodded, clutching his chest as the pressure became too much.

"Jess!" Sam yelled, reaching for Dean and helping him sit up, knowing it would be easier for him to breathe if he wasn't lying down. "Jess!"

Jess ran in, eyes still half-closed from sleep, instantly running to Dean whose breath was sawing in and out, his hands fumbling by his chest in an attempt to will his lungs to expand.

"What happened?" she asked, turning to Sam, more scared than Sam had ever seen her.

"His ribs," he responded simply. "I think they might be pressing on his lungs. Maybe punctured one," he added, hoping with everything in his heart that that wasn't the case. "Call 911," he said, no hesitation in his voice.

He turned back to his brother, fear stealing his breath as he saw the blue tinge that was appearing around Dean's lips. "Just breathe man, ambulance will be here soon."

And because there was nothing else for him to do, Sam took his brother's hand in his own, praying that he was right. He sat in silence, listening to his brother's painful gasps, silently willing for him to _keep fighting_.

* * *

Oops! Sorry about the cliffy! I'm having too much fun with this story...please review!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Had intended for this chapter to be posted yesterday, but never got the opportunity to finish it. Mainly because I got side-tracked reading other fics :-/ Also, I have no clue if any of this medical stuff is correct. To be honest, most of the info I use has come from other people's fanfiction. Just keep an open mind. Thanks for sticking with me, guys. Hope you enjoy.**

**

* * *

**

Jess hurried back into the bedroom after rattling off the street address to the 911 operator who had then assured her that help was on the way. Sam didn't look up as she entered the room, too focused on his ailing brother.

Dean's breath was wheezing in and out, hands now gripping the edge of the mattress, fists squeezed tight around the bed covers. Sam reached out a hand to grasp Dean's shoulder, wanting to form a tangible connection with him, to let him know that he was there, that he wasn't going anywhere.

"Don't," Dean begged him, "Don't…touch," Sam pulled back, confused at first. "Pressure," Dean offered in way of explanation. "Can't…breathe."

The realization that even the slight pressure of his hand on Dean's back was too much for his brother to bear only served to ratchet up Sam's fears.

Jess had approached the brothers and was now kneeling on the floor next to Dean, feeling helpless as he continued to struggle desperately for air. "Ambulance is on its way," she told him, knew that she was trying to reassure herself as much as she was Dean. "Any minute now."

* * *

"Any minute" turned out to be a major understatement. The ambulance took 15 long, painful minutes to reach Sam and Jess's apartment, with each minute growing more and more harrowing than the last. By the time the EMT crew arrived, Dean was barely breathing and the beds of his fingernails were tinged a slight blue. Sam's resolve had slowly broken down as the time had lapsed, the utter helplessness and fear he felt making it harder and harder for him to stay calm, though he tried his best for his brother's sake. Even so, the steady mantra of encouragement that he'd been offering Dean seemed hollow even to his own ears; and he wasn't the one who was suffocating.

Jess's own resolve had broken when Dean's gasps began mimicking those of an end-stage lung cancer patient. She didn't even bother to wipe away the tears that streamed down her face, her attention devoted solely to Dean and his struggle to survive.

When the EMTs arrived, they ushered Jess and Sam outside of the small bedroom, insisting that they needed the space to work on their patient. And Sam was willing to do anything if it meant getting his brother some much-needed help, even as he wished he could stay by his side.

Though Sam only managed to catch bits and pieces of hushed conversation from the ambulance crew, he'd heard enough to know the situation was critical. He felt Jess next to him and put his arm around her, pulling her tight, watching in silence as the medical crew worked to save his brother's life.

Sam's attention immediately returned to his brother when he heard the EMTs packing up, saw them lifting the stretcher that they'd rolled into the room. Dean was lying on the stretcher, though Sam noted he was nearly as tense as before, his hands still clenched tight at his sides, his pallor an unhealthy gray. One of the EMTs was slowly pumping an ambu bag, pushing air into Dean's desperate lungs. "You his brother?" the other EMT addressed Sam.

"Yeah. Sam," he replied as he went to his brother's side, taking one of the clenched fist in his hands.

"Okay, Sam. We're going to take your brother to the university hospital. There isn't enough room in the ambulance, but you can follow us there."

Sam nodded, wanted more than anything to protest but refused to waste precious time arguing. Sam saw tears gathering in his brother's eyes and he squeezed his hand in reassurance. "Hey," Sam spoke softly. "We're gonna be right behind you, okay man?" The slight nod of Dean's head was barely perceptible. "You just hang on."

Sam released Dean's hand and the ambulance crew hurried out the door, leaving Sam and Jess standing in the empty apartment. "He's gonna be okay," he whispered, trying to ignore the doubt that had crept into his heart, the other voice that was whispering _You're too late _over and over again in his mind.

* * *

So this chapter is shorter than the others, but I figured if I didn't stop now I'd never get to bed and I wanted to have this posted by the morning. Let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N One or two chapters left...hope you're all still enjoying it! Here we go - please review!**

**

* * *

**_This is why I left_, Sam thought to himself as he and Jess waited in tense silence in the stiff hospital chairs. He'd always hated this part – the hours spent waiting, wondering if _this_ would be the time that he would lose his dad, lose his brother forever.

They'd arrived at the hospital on the heels of the ambulance and Sam had run through the doors just in time to see the paramedics pushing his brother down the hall, Dean now lying deathly still on the stretcher. Sam had tried to follow them, wanted to see for himself that Dean was still breathing, still holding on. He had been stopped by a nurse before he could get close enough to tell, calmly informed that he needed to return to the waiting room, that a doctor would be out to talk with him soon.

But it had been three hours and there was still no word on his brother. Though Sam took that to mean that at least his brother was still alive, he still found himself fidgeting in the hard-backed chair, hundreds of dreaded scenarios racing through his head.

"I should call Dad," he heard himself saying aloud, and he felt Jess take his hand, give it a tight squeeze. He turned to her, thankful that she was there with him. "Should I call him, Jess?"

Jess hadn't heard a lot about John Winchester in the two years that she'd been dating Sam but what he _had_ told her had painted a picture of a hard-ass, militant-type drill sergeant. She knew that he was the one to blame for the brothers' separation, that Sam had cut off contact with Dean because his dad had been unwavering in his stance on Sam's decision to go to college. And though she didn't know John Winchester personally, she couldn't help but hate him a little for that, especially now that she'd seen the brothers together, had realized how close they must have been growing up. But bastard or not, he was still Sam's dad. And sitting here in the empty hospital, Sam looked for all the world like a little boy who needed his father to tell him that everything would be okay.

"Yeah," she told him. "Yeah, Sam I think you should call him."

Sam nodded, looking like he was still trying to convince himself that it was the right decision. "Okay. I'll be right over there," he motioned towards the lobby. "Come get me if you hear anything?"

"Of course."

Sam dialed the numbers to his dad's cell, surprised that he'd recalled the digits so clearly when he hadn't used them in years. He waited for his father to pick up, almost relieved that it was his voice mail that answered instead. "This is John Winchester," the gruff voice said, "leave a message."

"Dad," Sam started, hating that his voice broke on the word. "It's Sam," he continued. "I just...I was just calling because I'm here with Dean. In Palo Alto. There's been an accident, Dad, and Dean's in the hospital. It's serious." He didn't know what to say then. Should he tell his dad to come? But he knew it would sting that much more if he asked and his father let him down. "Just thought you'd want to know," he said quickly instead, pressing the end button before he could change his mind. _Shit_.

He returned to the seats and slouched back down. "Got his voice mail," he told Jess.

Jess nodded, wanting to ask what Sam had said, curious if she would get the chance to meet the man. Instead she just took his hand again, knowing that Sam would tell her when he was ready.

* * *

"Sam," Jess whispered when she saw the doctor coming towards them. It had been two hours since Sam had called his father and at some point the weariness had caught up with him. He'd closed his eyes and let his head settle against Jess's shoulder, promising himself that it would just be for a few minutes.

He shook himself awake now, annoyed at his body for betraying him. He stood when the doctor approached.

"Sam Winchester, I presume?" the doctor asked, seeing as Sam and Jess were the only two people in the waiting room. He was a kind-looking man in his late 30s, Sam guessed, surprised to see that he was nearly as tall as Sam was. "I'm Dr. Conway." He reached out his hand for Sam to shake, then turned to Jess to do the same. "And you are..."

"Sam's girlfriend. Jess," she filled in for him. Dr. Conway nodded, motioning for the two of them have a seat.

"Before I go any further, I just want you to know that your brother is going to be okay, Sam," at those words, Sam let out the breath he'd been holding for what seemed like hours.

"Thank God," he whispered, squeezing Jess's hand.

"He'll get better with time, but right now he is still very ill." He waited a beat before continuing. "Dean came in here in severe respiratory distress and the ambulance crew believed that was being caused by a collapsed lung which had been punctured by one of Dean's ribs." Sam nodded, hanging on to every word the doctor said. "His O2 levels continued to drop so we were forced to perform emergency surgery on him." The doctor waited, noting the distressed look on Sam's face. "Lucky for your brother, it turned out that neither lung had been punctured, though one of the broken ribs _was _pressing on a lung, resulting in Dean's compromised breathing."

_Not punctured_, Sam smiled slightly at that, knowing the situation could be so much worse. "His lips were blue," he said instead. Because he had been so certain in the apartment that Dean was dying, needed the doctor to assure him again that he he had been wrong.

The doctor nodded. "Your brother is also showing signs of pneumonia. If the compressed lung wasn't bad enough on its own, you compound that with an illness which causes reduced respiration and you have a very bad situation on your hands. Dean's lucky you got him help in time."

Sam closed his eyes, remembering how he'd second-guessed himself. _We were almost too late_, he thought miserably.

"How is he doing now?" Sam heard Jess ask the doctor.

"He's resting. We had to intubate him during surgery, but now that his rib isn't pressing on his lung his respiration has increased significantly and we expect to take him off the vent in an hour or two. He's also on strong antibiotics to fight the pneumonia. He may be in some pain when he wakes up because we weren't able to wrap his broken ribs. We may rethink that in a day or two, but for now we'll keep it that way until his breathing is less labored."

"Can we see him?" Sam asked, his voice pleading for the doctor to say yes.

Doctor Conway stood up, nodding his assent. "Follow me."

Dean still looked too pale, Sam thought, but was relieved to see the steady up-and-down movement of his chest, even if it _was_ assisted by the breathing tube. Anything was better than the desperate wheezing sounds he'd been making back at the apartment. Sam sank into a chair next to Dean's bedside, taking his brother's hand in his own. He wanted nothing more than for Dean to open his eyes but for the moment he was content with the simple fact that his brother was here with him now, that he was going to be okay_._

_

* * *

YAY for finishing this chapter before 3 in the morning! I hope to be done with everything by tomorrow or Friday, so stay tuned...and please let me know what you think!  
_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N This is far too addictive...couldn't help but whump Dean a little bit more. This chapter is full of lots of Sick!Dean so I hope you enjoy! Thanks all for your reviews! Keep 'em coming...they make me write faster :)**

* * *

They took out the breathing tube a little less than an hour after Dean woke up, after the respiratory tests they'd administered indicated he could breathe well enough on his own without its added assistance. Sam had sent Jess home shortly after that to get some rest and grab a shower and change of clothes. He knew he'd have to stop at the apartment too at some point, knew he couldn't keep functioning on such minimal sleep. But for now, at least, Sam refused to leave his brother's side.

Dean had fallen back to sleep after the breathing tube had been removed, comforted by the fact that Sam was with him. Sam was dozing in the chair when he heard Dean start to shift, moaning softly.

"Hey man," Sam whispered, putting a cool hand on Dean's forehead and feeling the high fever that still lingered there, indication that Dean was still very sick.

Dean's lips parted in a breathy sigh and he winced as he felt the pull of his broken ribs. "S…a…m," he whispered painfully, closing his eyes, his throat too dry and sore for him to continue.

Sam quickly got up and filled a cup with water from a pitcher that was nearby, holding it up to his brother's lips for him to drink. "Thanks," Dean told him when he could speak more easily. Sam nodded, placing the cup back on the table.

"How are you feeling?"

Dean looked thoughtful for a second. "Like I got hit by a truck. Or a jeep." Sam smiled at Dean's answer.

"I bet. I called Dad," he admitted, saw the surprise in Dean's face. "He didn't answer," he continued, knowing Dean was wondering whether the two had actually spoken. "I told him I was with you at the hospital."

Dean nodded and closed his eyes again, didn't ask Sam to continue. Sam knew it bothered Dean that he and John didn't talk, knew that if Dean had his way the three of them would continue hunting together for the rest of their lives.

Sam watched as Dean winced again. "Dean?" Sam asked, getting up from the chair and hovering by his brother's side. "Hey, do you need me to get a nurse? The doc said you could have more pain meds when you woke up."

Dean wanted to reject the offer because he knew if he said yes he'd only worry Sam more. But the pain was beyond intense and Dean could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

"I'll be right back, Dean," he heard Sam saying, wondered how his kid brother could still read him so well after being away for so long. He heard Sam return a minute later and opened his eyes to see that he'd brought a nurse with him.

"Hey Sweetie," she said to him. "I'm just going to check a few things first, okay?" he nodded tightly as she took down his vitals, frowning at how high his temperature still was. "Is your chest feeling tight?" she asked when Dean stifled a cough.

"A little," he admitted, wincing again.

"Okay, I'll give you the pain meds that the doctor authorized, but I'm going to have Dr. Conway come in and check on you in a little too." She injected the meds into Dean's IV and left the room.

Sam watched as the pain lines around Dean's face slowly disappeared, saw his brother relax as the medication took effect. "Better?" he asked.

Dean huffed out a breath. "Much. Man that sucked," he broke off in a short cough, putting a hand to his chest to minimize the shifting of his broken ribs. Dr. Conway entered just as the cough abated, frowning as he took in his patient's condition.

"Hey Dean, Sam," he addressed them. He'd been calling them by their first names ever since Dean had told him in no uncertain terms that the only Mr. Winchester around was their father. He pulled out a stethoscope and instructed Dean to sit up so he could listen to his lungs.

He frowned again as he heard the crackling in Dean's chest, a sure sign that the antibiotics had yet to get a handle on the pneumonia.

"Okay Dean," he said to his patient, helping him to lie back down. "Your fever is still too high and I can hear from your breath sounds that the meds aren't working as well as I'd hoped."

Sam sat up straighter in his chair. "What does that mean, Doc?"

"Means I'm going to change up the meds a little, see if we can't stop the illness from worsening." He turned to Dean now. "These antibiotics may be a little harder on your system, Dean. Let the nurse know if you start to feel nauseous."

Dean nodded slightly, not liking the way this was sounding. _Couldn't things ever be easy for him?

* * *

_

By the time Jess returned to the hospital room around noon, Dean was once again in a fitful slumber, shivering underneath the blankets. Jess looked at the machines monitoring Dean's vitals, frowned when she saw his temperature was up past 102 again.

Sam stood up and gave Jess a peck on the cheek, pulling up another chair for her to sit in. "How's he doing?" she asked him once she'd taken a seat.

Sam shook his head slightly. "The doctor seemed concerned about his breathing, and his temperature's been holding steady at around 102."

"What about his ribs?" she asked, seeing as how that had been their main concern when this whole nightmare had started.

"Okay, I guess. But I can tell he's still in a lot of pain, even if he won't admit it."

The two sat side by side for more than an hour, neither talking, just comforted by the other's presence.

When Jess saw that Sam was starting to doze again, she pulled rank on him, insisting that he go home for a bit.

"I'll be here with Dean, Sam. He'll be fine for a few hours."

Sam nodded, knowing he'd be more use to both of them if he didn't feel like he was going to fall flat on his face any minute. "Okay," he relented, "but just for a few hours. I'll pick up some dinner for us on the way back," he added, realizing he hadn't eaten since dinner the night before. _Had that only been last night_? He thought in disbelief; so much had happened since then.

"Sounds great," Jess said, pulling Sam out of his thoughts. He turned to leave, taking one last look at his brother as he left the room.

"He really cares about you," she whispered to Dean once Sam had left, pulling the blankets up higher around Dean when he started to shiver again.

* * *

Jess looked up from the book that she had been reading when she heard Dean stirring. "Hey Jess," he rasped, and he looked so miserable that Jess wished for his sake that he was still sleeping.

"Hey Hon," she said back, leaning forward in her chair. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," he told her, though his appearance told a different story. He kept a hand pressed tightly against his chest as shifted in the bed, and Jess noticed that his face had taken on a green tinge. Sam had told her about the new medications, how the doctor had warned of nausea as a side effect. She stood up, holding out the emesis basin that one of the nurses had left for Dean.

Dean gratefully took the bowl, closing his eyes and swallowing hard, desperately trying not to be sick. He gagged as he felt bile flooding his mouth and vomited into the basin, letting out an involuntary whimper as the action jolted his ribs. He heard Jess moving around, felt her place a cool washcloth on the back of his neck as he heaved again. "Shhh," she soothed, and he realized that he was still whimpering.

After a few minutes he felt Jess gently take the basin from his hands, replacing it with a cool glass of water. "You okay now?" she asked him, and he nodded slightly.

"Stupid medicine," he coughed, knew he sounded like a petulant child but he was so ready for this all to be over. He looked at Jess who was looking on with concern.

"I'm going to let the nurse know, okay?" she said. "You try and rest."

Dean nodded, closing his eyes again and settling back to sleep.

Sam entered the room two hours later to see Dean once again throwing up, Jess by his side with her hand on his back. He hurried over to his brother's side.

"Sammy," Dean said when his stomach had calmed again.

"Hey Dean," Sam responded with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He turned to Jess then, "How long has this been going on? " he asked quietly, concerned.

"On and off for the last two hours. Dr. Conway came by and said he was giving him something for the nausea but he didn't want to change the medications yet."

Sam turned his attention back to his brother when Dean started to cough, a painful barking sound that had Sam wincing for his brother. He switched places with Jess while she went to rinse out the basin, taking the glass of water that Jess had been holding.

"Slow sips," he said as Dean tried to drink the glass down in one gulp. "You don't wanna puke again do you, man?"

Dean obeyed because he knew if he threw up any more he might just start crying. The pain was that bad. He handed the glass back to Sam after he'd finished a little more than half.

"Not doing so well, huh Bro?" Sam asked him.

"Feels...like I'm being stabbed...every time I...cough," he choked out, breaking off into another coughing fit. Sam noticed the oxygen mask that was sitting on the table.

"Oh yeah," Jess came up behind him, "Dr. Conway brought that in about an hour ago, told him to keep it on, but we keep having to take if off when he throws up so I'm not sure how much good it's been doing him."

Sam shook his head sadly, picking up the mask and helping Dean put it on, noticing a slight improvement in Dean's breathing. "Don't worry man. You'll start to feel better soon," he reassured him, hoping for his brother's sake that he was right.

* * *

_So that chapter was a whole lot of h/c and not much else. Poor Dean. NOW there's one or two more chapters left. Maybe just one more long one. We'll see - don't worry, I haven't forgotten about John. Let me know what you guys think!_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry this took a few days, but I've been traveling since Friday...AND I'm not good with endings. Truth is I didn't want this to be finished, but I had to end it somewhere, sometime. So here's the conclusion. I hope you don't hate it - thanks for sticking along for the ride. PLEASE let me know what you think - I love hearing from all you guys. Thinking of doing a longer case-fic next if I can convince myself that it won't suck - feel free to help convince me ;-). Oh yeah, and song lyrics are from Jefferson Starship's Find Your Way Back. Great song if you don't know it.**

**

* * *

**

_You got no place to be_

_Still you wonder where you're goin'_

_And why I had to leave_

_I hear a voice and it says to me_

_Find your way back.

* * *

_

_This must be what Hell feels like. _Dean couldn't remember a time when he felt _this_ bad. Sure, he'd had broken ribs before; in his line of work that was pretty much inevitable. But he'd never had broken ribs and been _this _sick. And he was rapidly learning that those two things were a very bad combination.

Dean felt another cough coming on and pulled the oxygen mask off of his face, putting a hand up to his mouth as he shook with the intensity of the cough. Even after it had subsided, Dean lay still, panting for breath. He heard Sam getting up from his chair, felt him reaching for the mask that Dean had thrown aside.

"Mask stays on, man," Sam told him when Dean squirmed away, trying to prevent Sam from putting it on him. He curled to the side, coughing helplessly again, pulling in wheezing breaths when he'd finished. He stayed facing away from Sam, didn't want his brother to read the misery in his face.

Sam huffed out a sigh and rounded the bed, crouching down so he was face to face with his brother, dismayed when he saw the tears welling up in his eyes. "I know this sucks Dean, and I know you're sick of feeling so shitty," Sam said quietly. Dean let out a choked sob, one tear tracing a sluggish track down his face. It took all Sam had not to reach out and comfort his brother but he held back, knowing that any other time Dean would spurn the action.

He looked up in surprise when he saw that Jess had approached the other side of the bed and had placed a gentle hand on the side of Dean's face. "Shh," she whispered, and Sam watched in disbelief as Dean leaned in towards her touch. "Dean," she continued quietly, thumbing away the tears, "I know you don't want to wear the mask but you need it," she insisted. "Just until you start feeling better." Dean nodded slightly, leaning forward as Jess pulled the strap of the mask over and behind his head.

Sam was tempted to laugh at the complete turnaround Dean had just done but stifled it, not wanting to embarrass his brother. Instead he watched on in stunned silence, happy that Dean had at least agreed to do what was best for him. Jess looked up at Sam with a smug smile. _**That's** how you do it_. And Sam did laugh a little at that.

The on-call doctor had come by several times over the last few hours to check on Dean, spurred on by Sam's insistence that his brother was not improving. The nausea had subsided shortly after midnight but the bone-rattling coughs still shook through him with a fair amount of regularity. Still, the doctor insisted that that was a good thing, that the antibiotics were working to help clear his lungs. And there _were_ tangible signs of this - Dean's fever had dropped a degree, now hovering closer to 101. But it was hard for Sam to believe that Dean was getting better when all he could see was the constant misery reflected in his brother's eyes, something he didn't think he'd ever witnessed in his larger-than-life big brother and something he hoped he'd never see again.

Sam got up from his chair as Dean started to shift, mumbling in his fever dreams. "Mom," he heard his brother whisper, didn't think he'd ever heard Dean call out for her before.

"Shh," he soothed, knowing that Dean needed more than just words of comfort; they both did. Dean coughed himself awake then, and Sam got up to give him some cool water, a dance the two had perfected over the last several hours. Sam noticed that the cough didn't seem to last as long this time. _Maybe he **is **getting better_, he hoped.

"Sam," Dean gasped out.

"Yeah Dean?" he pulled the chair closer to the bed, leaning in to hear the weak whisper.

"Thanks," he said, pulling in a heaving breath to continue, "for being here. For staying."

Sam nodded, wasn't sure he could respond without his voice breaking. "Of course."

* * *

Dean continued to improve over the next few days. Sam and Jess made sure that one of them was with him at the hospital at all times, juggling their class schedules and skipping a few classes here and there to make it work. By the time Wednesday morning rolled around, Dean was looking and feeling so much better than he had when he'd been rushed in Friday evening that he was practically begging the doctors to let him go. And Sam didn't know why but he felt oddly comforted by that.

John Winchester never did call back. Sam wasn't sure why he was surprised, but he was. He found himself hoping that John was injured somewhere, that _that_ was the reason he couldn't call back. Sam huffed out a laugh, because_ wasn't that fucked up?_

Dr. Conway finally released Dean Wednesday evening, but not before he'd subjected him to several hours of respiratory tests. He still wasn't completely happy with Dean's breath sounds and the broken ribs were still a problem, but he'd soon given in, realizing Dean wasn't going to take no for an answer. He'd handed Sam the prescriptions, instructing him to get them filled as soon as possible. "Okay, Dean," Dr. Conway crouched down by his patient who was now (unhappily) sitting in a wheelchair. "Take care of yourself, okay? You're doing better but you could relapse very quickly if you don't take your meds and you don't rest."

Dean quickly agreed, wanting nothing more than to leave the damn hospital.

"Don't worry Doc," Sam spoke up, "we'll make sure he does everything he's supposed to." Sam didn't have to look at his brother to know that he'd smiled at that, at the implication that he and Jess weren't going to leave him yet.

"Okay then," the doctor said, shaking Sam's hand. "You take care."

"Thanks again," Sam said sincerely, taking hold of Dean's wheelchair and pushing him out of the room.

The car ride was short but painful for Dean; every bump in the road reverberated in his broken ribs. "Where's Jess?" Dean asked his brother, knowing it was too late in the evening for her to be at class.

"Back at the apartment. Said she would have a surprise waiting for you."

"Hope it's pie," Dean mumbled to himself. Sam smiled and looked at his brother who had now closed his eyes, holding his body rigid in an attempt to lessen the effects of the rocky road on his broken body. They drove the rest of the way in silence and Sam found himself desperately trying to avoid every pothole and bump in the road.

* * *

Dean inhaled as deeply as he could when Sam opened the door to the apartment, the sweet smell of apple pie drifting out from the kitchen and filling the rooms. Jess appeared in the hallway, wearing an apron covered in flour. She rushed over to Dean and pulled him into a tight hug, still mindful of his injured ribs.

"You look so much better!" she exclaimed when she pulled back to look at him.

Dean smiled, embarrassed at first. "Apple pie, my favorite," he said then, a mischievous smile playing across his lips, "I think I love you."

"Watch it buddy," Sam said, coming up and kissing Jess, giving Dean a playful punch on the shoulder.

Dean chuckled. "What are we waiting for? I'm starving."

The three sat around the kitchen table, lingering there long after they'd eaten their fill of pie. They talked and joked for hours, picking up where they'd left off that first night, shortly before Dean had gotten so sick. Sam once again found himself yearning for this normalcy, knowing in his heart that he could never have it.

Sam saw Dean stifle a yawn and he looked at his watch, shocked when he realized it was past 2 in the morning. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm exhausted," he said, standing up and stretching out his arms.

Dean yawned again. "Thank you for the pie, Jess. It was delicious."

Sam looked over to see her beaming, knew Dean's compliment meant so much to her. "You're very welcome, Dean," she smiled, heading off to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

"She really is amazing, Sam," Dean said turning towards his brother.

Sam just smiled back. "I know."

* * *

"Can't you just stay a little longer?" Sam pleaded with his brother. It had been more than a week since they'd returned from the hospital and Dean was itching to get back on the road. Still, Sam could see that a part of him wanted to stay.

"I can't, man." Dean answered him.

"Why?"

Dean turned to look at his brother, his eyes sad. "You _know_ why. People to save, evil to kill...all that jazz."

Sam wanted to argue more but he knew there was no changing Dean's mind. "So where are you going to go, then?" he asked instead.

"Figure I'll head east a bit, wait for Dad to call me."

"And if he doesn't?" Sam felt the anger creeping into his voice, knew it was directed at his father.

"Then I'll call around, make sure he's okay. Maybe find a hunt to go on."

"By _yourself_?" Sam raised his voice, saw his brother flinch a little.

"I'll be fine, Sam. I've hunted by myself before." He smiled a little, hoping to lighten Sam's attitude. "Besides, since when did you worry about me?" he asked.

"I _always_ worry about you," Sam said firmly and Dean heard his voice breaking. Sam turned and stomped to his room, closing the door loudly and leaving Dean standing by himself.

When Jess came home from the gym it was to find Dean sitting by himself in the den. He looked up at her sadly when she came in. "Where's Sam?" she asked, because ever since she'd brought Dean to the apartment the two hadn't spent much time apart.

"Bedroom," Dean answered, and Jess went to check on him when it was clear that that was all Dean was going to say.

Jess knocked on the door before pushing it open. She found Sam sulking on the bed. "What's wrong?" she asked as she went to sit next to him. His eyes were red and she could tell he had been crying.

"Dean's leaving," he said simply.

_Oh. _She put her arm around him. "You knew he was going to leave eventually, Sam."

Sam nodded, sniffing. "Didn't think it would be so soon." He turned to look at her. "I just got him back, Jess." She pulled him into a hug, stroking the back of his head.

"Then go spend some time with him, Sam. While you still have it." Jess pulled back, looking Sam in the eyes, "And let him know he always has some place to come back to."

* * *

"Hey," Sam said, walking into the den where Dean was still sitting in silence. Dean looked up in surprise.

"Hey," he responded, shifting on the couch so Sam could sit down.

"I'm sorry, Dean. For the way I reacted before. I just don't want...I don't want you to get hurt. I don't wanna lose you."

Dean nodded, about to speak when Sam continued.

"But I know you. And I know that I can't convince you to stay." Sam smiled sadly. "The road will still be there tomorrow, man. Think you could stay one more day?"

Dean grinned widely at that. "Yeah, Sam. I can stay one more day."

They sat around talking for the next few hours, Dean asking Sam more about his college life, directing the questions towards Jess when Sam refused to answer.

"You wanna watch a movie?" Sam asked when the topics of conversation began to dwindle down. "I've got _Spinal Tap_."

Dean looked up at his brother, waggling his eyebrows. "Aw Sammy, you know know what I like." Sam threw the movie at him.

"I'll order the pizza."

Hours later, Sam stirred awake, realizing the movie must have ended ages ago. Jess was no longer sitting in the recliner and Sam assumed she must have headed off to bed. He looked down when he felt a slight movement, smiling when he saw that his brother's head rested against his shoulder. Dean was fast asleep.

Sam was about to close his eyes again when he heard a slight buzzing coming from the side table where his cell phone rested. He strained his head to look at the caller id, pulling in a breath when he saw the word "Dad" blinking back at him. Sam stretched his arm out, trying to reach the phone but stilled when he felt Dean moving again. He looked down at his brother, thinking how peaceful he looked sleeping there. And he didn't want to lose that. Sam closed his eyes again and waited for the buzzing to stop.

* * *

_I sure ain't got no home_

_I seem to find love where I ramble_

_And when it's time to go_

_I hear that voice again, sayin'_

_Find your way back._

_

* * *

_

_AHHH I'm sorry for the ending! And I'm sorry that Sam didn't talk to John but I just couldn't see myself writing that properly. I hope you don't hate me too much for that. Thank you all again for the reviews and just for reading. Until next time...  
_


End file.
